Brendan helped him out of the taxi, but Ethan stopped him when the bigger man would have carried him. "I-I can walk."

He grinned and took his hand, leading him into the hotel.

People cast them curious, pointed looks as they walked through the lobby.

"You don't have to hold my hand," whispered Ethan.

Brendan winked at him as they entered an elevator. "But I want to hold your hand."

One of the things that had hurt him most in his relationship with Jeff had been his coldness in public. Jeff wouldn't let him stand closer than an arm's length outside of their home.

"We're taking the elevator this time?"

Brendan tugged him against his body. "Do you think your legs are strong enough to climb twenty flights of stairs?"

He fingered the long, black overcoat Brendan wore. "No."

"Maybe tomorrow?"

He lifted his gaze. "If there is a tomorrow."

Smiling, he leaned down and bumped his nose against Ethan's, tipping his head back. Brendan's lips touched his, just barely.

Ethan felt the warm caress of his breath and stood on his toes, craving more.

He was rewarded with a light brush over his lips. When he groaned, Brendan's mouth firmed: tasting and teasing, nipping and soothing.

Ethan's hands slid up his chest, linked behind his neck. He parted his lips.

Accepting the invitation, Brendan slid his tongue forward, explored his mouth.

This kiss... It was...

So right.

His sorrows slipped away. His yearning was born anew.